Huge Ajax's Arc

Chapter 278 of 619

The builder started cutting stone the next morning. Ajax stood on the tide line and watched blocks come free of the cliff base, squared and clean. The problem was the sea. Every block set below the waterline washed loose before the mortar took. The builder wiped salt from his face. "I can lay it dry at low tide," he said. "But the tide won't wait for the mortar." He needed the water held back long enough for the first course to bind. He had no way to do it. Ajax sent Rowan up the cliff for Chalam. The wizard came down slow over the wet rock, staff in hand, robe open at the collar. He crouched at the foundation stone and pressed two fingers to the wet seam. "This is my father's old work," Ajax said. "Can you hold the sea off it?" “With my staff, yes. No vials needed. I can push the water back," he said. "The working fights the sea the whole time." He looked at the builder. "Set your stone fast. When my arms drop, the water comes. I’ll warn you in advance.” They timed it to the low tide. Chalam set his staff in the wet sand and spoke three flat words. The surf pulled back from the foundation line and held, a wall of gray water leaning against nothing. The builder and Bran worked in the bared trench, hauling blocks into place and packing mortar. Ajax carried stone to them himself, boots in the wet sand, the held sea hissing at his shoulder. Chalam's arms shook. Sweat ran down his face. "Now," he said, voice tight. "It's slipping." The builder pressed the last block of the first course home. Ajax pulled him back by the collar. Chalam let the staff drop, and the water crashed in over the fresh work. It held. The mortar had taken. The breakwater's first course stood under the surf. Chalam sat down hard in the sand, spent. "I need rest." He said. Ajax gave him his hand and pulled him up. While they worked, Tarron came down to the shelf. The old woolwright had asked for wood to line the new dock shed, and he carved it himself now, a plank braced on his knee, knife moving in quick sure strokes. He watched the held sea break and shook his head. "Magic to lay stone," he said. "I've seen enough winters. That builder's right. The tide won't wait." He went back to his carving. When a board split wrong along the grain, he set it aside without a word and started another. By dusk the first course stood firm. Ajax looked at the line of wet stone running into the surf. Black Oak had begun its dock. But Chalam was drained for a day, and courses still to come would each cost him the same. Ajax had a breakwater that only magic could build, and a wizard who could help.